And we keep on running
by StardustToRememberYouBy
Summary: She bore the weight of one who had been through her fair share of grievances, but until Dean learned her true calling, he wouldn't pity her. Multi-chapter Dean/OC story. Hints of Sam/Jo and a one-sided Castiel crush. AU story starting from Lazarus Rising onward.
1. From Perdition

**A/N: **This is my very first attempt at a Supernatural fic, so please remember to review - I'd really appreciate the feedback! Sadly, the only bit of this storyline I own is the OC you'll find within and the story I've concocted for her. No Destiel, no Wincest - sorry, not sorry. Rating is for content (future content included) and language (I'm not letting the boys hold back). Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy!

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_I invoke, conjure, and command... Castiel...Trelaine? No. Sorry, Castiel and Trelaine, I don't scare easy._

Dean was perched on the edge of the broken down table, swinging his leg loosely as his mind echoed what had happened to Pamela. Someone - or, rather, some_thing_ - had completely disintegrated her eyes after having warned her to turn back. He pitied the woman, not envying her unimaginable pain in the least. Of course, at the moment, he was still battling his own demons, the ones that had piggybacked after his exit from Hell.

And now they were waiting, Dean and Bobby, for whatever it was that had pulled him out. They were decked out to the maximum, preparing every trap and trinket and weapon they could scrounge up to meet this beast...actually, technically beast_s_. Plural. Pamela had mentioned two names at the seance, not one. Were they a dynamic duo? Were they partners in crime? Were they pals dabbling in the dark arts? Dean hoped that, soon, all of his questions would be answered and as he twirled the evergreen stake between his fingers and felt the walls of the hangar shake, he knew his answer was pounding at the front door.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," he commented as the wind's speed picked up and the doors to the hangar swung open. The bulbs in the lights above their heads began to shatter as two shadowy figures appeared in the hangar doorway. One mumbled something inaudible and then the two were on the move, entering the hangar with eyes staring straight at Dean. Neither figure was affected by any of the traps they'd drawn and it seemed like their bits of iron and silver weren't doing any good at repelling them either, at least, not at the present moment.

"Who _are_ you?" Dean asked as the two approached, slowing their pace some.

"She's the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," the male figure, whom Dean guessed to be Castiel, answered in a gruff voice he wasn't expecting.

"Yeah, thanks for that." Dean stepped forward and plunged the blessed knife into Castiel's chest. The man gave Dean an unconcerned look as he pulled the knife out, unharmed by the weapon as he dropped it to the floor. Bobby took a swing at the female who took ahold of Bobby's wrist and turned it back around on him. Castiel reached over her grip and touched two fingers to Bobby's forehead, which caused him to keel over to the ground unconscious.

The female looked to Dean. "We need to talk, Dean," she said. "Alone."

Dean crossed over to Bobby, crouching to check his pulse.

Castiel sighed. "Your friend's alive," he reassured, sounding almost bothered that he even had to explain that.

Dean straightened himself, walking over to the two. "Who are you?"

"I'm Castiel." Dean examined him - dark, short hair cropped above a sharp, squared face. He was wearing some kind of suit underneath a khaki trenchcoat and the tie was quite loosened. He was average in height, not much shorter than Dean himself. Castiel turned his head to look at the female. "This is Trelaine." Cucumber hues turned to gaze at the woman. She was, as well, average in height - if he had been forced to guess, he would've wagered her height at five-foot-seven and her weight at around one-fifty-five. She appeared to be able to handle herself. She had dark auburn hair - _nothing like Anna's_, he thought - that fell in light curls to her shoulders. He could see brown eyes behind lengthy lashes and a German nose to boot. She bore the weight of one who had been through her fair share of grievances, but until Dean learned her true calling, he wouldn't pity her.

"Yeah, I figured that much. I mean _what_ are you?" His eyes were still on the woman's.

Trelaine gave a light smirk and shook her head. "In time," she answered calmly, and Dean wasn't about to press the issue. Instead, his sights turned to Castiel.

"I'm an angel of the Lord," he answered.

Dean was taken aback - was this guy for real? "Get the fuck out of here," he said simply. "There's no such thing."

"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Lighting flashed. Amid the flashes of light, Dean could see wings appear on Castiel's back - great, black wings stretching out towards the walls. On Trelaine's back, similar shadows of wings appeared, but they were far less grand than Castiel's, leaving Dean to wonder why as the flashes stopped and the images of their wings disappeared.

"Some angel _you_ are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes."

"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be...overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."

Dean paused, a look of realization passing over his face. "You mean the gas station and the motel...that was _you_ talking?" Castiel nodded. "Buddy, next time, lower the volume."

"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."

Dean looked at Trelaine. "So what is _your_ true face?"

Trelaine shook her head gently, her hands shoved into the pockets of her peacoat. "I've already told you - in time you'll know what I am and where I stand."

"So you're a goddamn angel, too?"

Trelaine shook her head once more. "No. For now, if it helps put you at ease, consider me a messenger."

"Whose face _are_ you wearing, Trelaine?"

Trelaine smirked gently. "This is my true form, Dean."

Dean's eyes turned back to Castiel, now more confused than ever. "And what visage are _you_ in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?"

"This?" Castiel asked, looking down at his person. "This is a vessel."

"You're possessing some poor bastard?"

"He's a devout man. He actually prayed for this."

Dean blinked several times. "Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"

Castiel frowned. "We _told_ you."

"Right...and why would an angel and a _messenger_ rescue me from Hell?"

"Good things do happen, Dean."

"Not in my experience."

An expression of sadness crossed Trelaine's features. "What's the matter?" she asked. "You don't think you deserved to be saved?"

Dean turned to her. "Why'd you do it?"

Clearly they weren't answering the right questions, so Dean continued to press harder. Trelaine looked him dead in the eyes and stepped a bit closer to him, her expression unwavering. "Because God _commanded_ it. Because we have work for you."


	2. Show Us Some Respect

**A/N:** I couldn't wait, so here's chapter two! Trelaine and all aspects to her story are my creation.

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Dean crossed his arms as he paced the room, finishing explaining what happened to Sam who appeared puzzled. Bobby continued to look through the pile of books on his desk.

"Well, then tell me what else it could be," Sam said with a shrug at Dean's obstinance.

"Look, all I know is I was _not_ groped by a messenger, whatever the hell that is," Dean stated adamantly.

"Okay, look, Dean. Why do you think this Castiel and Trelaine would lie to you about it?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe they're some kind of demons. Demons lie."

"...demons who are immune to salt rounds and Devil's Traps..._and_ Ruby's knife? Dean, _Lilith_ is scared of that thing!"

"Don't you think that if angels were real, that some hunter somwhere would have seen one at some point _ever_?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "You just did, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "I'm trying to come up with a theory here. Okay? Work with me."

"Dean, we _have_ a theory."

"Yeah, one with a little more believability, please."

"Okay, look. I'm not saying we know for sure. I'm just saying that I think we - "

"Okay, okay. That's the point. We don't know for sure, so I'm not gonna believe that this thing is a fucking angel of the Lord because it says so!"

"You two chuckleheads want to keep arguin' religion or do you want to come take a look at this?" Bobby interrupted. Both brothers walked over to the desk, Sam's hands on his hips. "I got stacks of lore - Biblical, pre-Biblical. Some of it's damn cuneiform. It all says an angel can snatch a soul from the pit."

"What else?" Dean asked.

Bobby was lost. "What else, what?"

"What else could do it?"

"Airlift your ass out of the hot box? As far as I can tell, nothing."

"That doesn't make any sense. Trelaine told me she isn't an angel. All she'd tell me was that she's a messenger, but she didn't what kind or who for. Castiel said that _she_ was the one that pulled me out, but he wouldn't say why she'd done it. Messenger for who? If this Castiel is some kind of messenger, too, maybe they're working for the same person."

Sam's face lit up slightly. "Dean, this is good news," he said.

"How?"

"Because for once, this isn't just another round of demon crap." He was getting a bit excited now. I mean, maybe you were saved by one of the good guys, you know?"

Dean nodded, humoring his brother for the moment. "Okay. Say it's true. Say there _are_ angels. Then what? There's a God?"

"At this point," Bobby chimed in, "Vegas money's on yeah."

Dean's head was reeling. "I don't know, guys."

Sam was bent on putting his brother's mind at ease. "Okay, look. I know you're not all choirboy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof."

"Proof?"

Sam nodded. "Yes."

"Proof that there's a God out there that actually gives a shit about me personally. I'm sorry, but I'm not buying it."

"Why not?"

"Because why _me_?" His words were blurted and stung Sam sharply. "If there is a God out there, why would he give a shit about me?"

"Dean - "

"I mean, I've saved some people, okay? I figured that made up for the stealing and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to get saved? I'm just a regular guy." In his mind, he truly meant that. There was no logical reason why he should have been saved over other souls trapped in Hell.

"Apparently, you're a regular guy that's important to the man upstairs and his messengers."

"Well, that creeps me out." Dean was pacing again, his head still trying to wrap around all of this. "I mean, I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties, much less by _God_."

Sam's hands were, once again, on his hips. "Okay, well, too bad Dean, because I think he wants you to strap on your party hat."

Dean paused. Perhaps his brother was right. They didn't know shit about this Castiel and even less about Trelaine, the one responsible for pulling him out in the first place. Why had it happened and for what? If God was the one who wanted him saved, why? For now, he was going to go with it. "Fine. What do we know about angels?"

Bobby passed a stack of large, thick books to Dean. "Start reading," he suggested.

Dean's brow rose as he looked at the stack, glancing over to Sam and shaking his head as he took a seat. "You're gonna get me some pie."

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So far, they had scrounged up jack-shit about angels and whatever the hell a "messenger" allegedly did. Apparently, Dean needed to ask the right questions, only he wasn't quite sure what those right questions were.

It wasn't until after the trio had defeated the witnesses that Dean could, finally, start garnering some answers to his questions. Sam was sound asleep on the couch while Dean slept on the floor. He had been dreaming of Hell once more and woke up to see Trelaine standing in Bobby's kitchen. Castiel was near her, looking out the window. Dean rose from the floor and wiped his mouth with his fingers as he headed over to them.

"Excellent job with the witnesses," Castiel commented, not making eye contact.

Dean's brow furrowed. "You both were hip to all this?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest as his eyes looked directly at Trelaine.

"We were made aware," Trelaine answered, catching his gaze.

"Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance. You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest."

Trelaine's face softened. "But you didn't."

"I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos - you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks." Trelaine frowned, but Castiel finally allowed his eyes to wander to the elder Winchester.

"Read the Bible," he said gruffly, a darkness behind his eyes. "Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier."

"Yeah? Then why didn't you fight?"

"I'm not here to perch on your shoulder. We had larger concerns."

"Concerns? There were people getting torn to shreds down here! And, by the way, while all this is going on, where the hell is your boss, huh, if there _is_ a God?"

Castiel's eyes turned back to the window. "There's a God."

Dean shrugged, outstretching his arms a bit. "I'm not convinced." Trelaine watched him as he continued. "'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The fucking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?"

"The Lord works - "

"If you say 'mysterious ways', so help me, I will kick your ass." Castiel rolled his eyes and prepared to say something about that, but Trelaine laid a hand on his forearm and he stopped. "So, Bobby was right about the witnesses. This is some kind of a sign of the apocalypse."

Trelaine turned back to him. "That's why we're here," she chimed in, breaking the unspoken tension between Dean and her angel-friend. "Big things afoot."

"Do I want to know what kind of things?"

Trelaine sighed. "I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know. The rising of the witnesses is one of the sixty-six seals."

"Okay." He pondered this for a moment, shaking his head softly. "I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld."

"Those seals are being broken by Lilith."

"She did the spell. She rose the witnesses."

Trelaine nodded. "And not just here. Twenty other hunters are dead."

"Of course." He knew that...mostly. "She picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us."

"Lilith has a certain sense of humor," Castiel added.

"Well, we put those spirits back to rest."

"It doesn't matter," Trelaine muttered. "The seal was broken."

Now, Dean was terribly confused. He thought he'd wasted those ghosts, putting them back where they belonged, but now he knew it had all been in vain. Regardless, the seal had been broken. "Why break the seal anyway?"

Trelaine thought of how to explain this, taking a moment for herself. "Think of the seals as...locks on a door."

"Okay." Dean totally understood where she was headed with that. "Last one opens and - "

"Lucifer walks free."

Dean wasn't fond of her tone - it now carried a dark hint to it, one that sent shivers down his spine. "Lucifer? But I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at demon Sunday school. There's no such thing."

Castiel came out of his melodramatic stupor and fully turned around, looking Dean directly in the face. "Three days ago, you thought there was no such thing as _me_," he commented. "Why do you think we're here walking among you now for the first time in two thousand years?"

"To stop Lucifer."

Trelaine nodded - a fair guess. "That's why we've arrived," she added.

"Well, bang-up job so far. Stellar work with the witnesses. That's nice."

"We tried. And there are other battles, other seals. Some we'll win, some we'll lose. This one we lost. Our numbers are not unlimited." Trelaine was about to launch into a full-on explanation of their numbers and their faithful followers until Castiel's eyes narrowed and he stepped dangerously close to Dean.

"Six of my brothers died in the field this week," his gruff voice hoarsely whispered. "You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around?"

"Castiel, that's enough," Trelaine warned, placing a hand flat against Castiel's chest, pushing him back slightly from Dean.

"There's a bigger picture here."

"He knows that, Cas, now stop." Her voice had softened some, Dean realized as he listened to her speak. Why had she suddenly changed her demeanor? The worst part was that Castiel was listening to her, but continued to stare at Dean.

"You should show us some respect," the angel said, his shoulders no longer squared off as he slumped back into his usual posture. "She dragged you out of Hell." He stepped closer, shoving her hand aside. "I can throw you back in." With that, he vanished, leaving Trelaine standing there with Dean.

"Where the hell did that attitude of his come from?" Dean asked her, leaning back against the countertop.

Trelaine sighed, glancing over to where Castiel had been standing only moments prior. "You will learn to get used to Cas," she reassured him. "His approach to this whole thing is more mandated. I've tried to change that."

"Clearly, and he seems to listen to you."

"Cas and I go way back."

"How far back?"

Trelaine's eyes met his. "Do you really want to know?"

Dean turned a bit more into her, eyes on the brink of discovery. "Are you ready to tell me?"

"I want to tell you, Dean." She paused, her eyes getting that doe-eyed, pained look again, the one that made Dean question the very merit of living. Why did that expression of hers have that effect on him? "I just feel like maybe...maybe you already know."

"What are you, Trelaine? _Who_ are you?"

Trelaine sighed once more as she could feel the need-to-know growing inside of him through the eagerness in his eyes. "I think this conversation is one best had when you're awake, don't you think?"

Dean blinked hard, waking with a start. No Trelaine. No Castiel. No darkness. Sam was already up and he sat up. Rubbing his eyes with his fingertips, he pondered how she could pull that off. If she wasn't an angel, how could she have entered his dreams so realistically? How could she...well, exist?

Castiel had told him - very angrily - that Trelaine had, indeed, been the one to pull Dean out of Hell - why and how? Cas was the angel, she wasn't, so how could that be pulled off?

"I can hear your wheels turning, Dean," Sam said, almost startling his older brother. "Have a good dream?"

"Far from it."


	3. You Give Me Purpose

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for the follows and favorites! That definitely makes this worthwhile and prompts me to keep going. As always, only Trelaine and her storyline belong to me. I wish I could say that I own _Supernatural_, but, alas.

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Dean's sleeping body was thrashing about, probably having more nightmares from his recent experiences, so he awoke with a start, visions of blood and red and the echoes of screams still reverberating within the confines of his skull as he rubbed his eyes.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel's voice said from beside him, startling Dean to the point of making him jump. "What were you dreaming about?"

He had just woken up, so why the hell was Castiel sitting next to him, waiting for him to wake up? What could he possibly want this early in the morning?

"What, do you get your freak on by watching other people sleep?" he asked, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "What do you want?"

"Listen to me." Castiel turned to face him. "You have to stop it."

"Stop _what_?"

Castiel placed two fingers onto Dean's forehead and he vanished. At that moment, Trelaine zapped into the room.

"No!" she shouted as she watched the area where Dean had just been. "You've already sent him, haven't you?"

Castiel turned to face her. "Was I not supposed to?"

"Dammit, Cas." Trelaine sighed, throwing her hands up in defeat. "I told you this wasn't necessary."

"You were told I would be doing this, Trelaine." He approached her gently. "It's done. Now Dean has to realize he can't, in fact, stop it."

"You don't know that he _won't_ stop it, Cas."

Castiel placed a hand awkwardly onto her shoulder. "He has to be made aware of what we know. This is the only way."

"Really?" She folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows. "Why couldn't you just have talked to him and explained things verbally instead of zapping him back to the past?"

Castiel's expression fell. Clearly he hadn't thought of that possibility. "I hadn't thought of it like that."

"It's too late now. Where is he?" Castiel poofed them both back to the street where he'd sent Dean. Trelaine looked across the street and into the windows of the diner. She could see Dean speaking with John and she shook her head. "Now they've met." She muttered _shit_ under her breath and Castiel winced beside her.

"I'm sorry, Trelaine. You of all people know that I cannot communicate with humans as you can."

Her eyes shifted over to his, her expression reflecting puzzlement. "You _can_ talk to people, Cas. You just choose not to. Trust me, it's easier to talk to people than to force them to live through something they'll never forget."

"Will he have a difficult time forgetting this?"

"When Mary Winchester is involved, Cas, it's not difficult to forget - it's _impossible_."

Castiel sighed. Trelaine could tell that he honestly hadn't known what he was doing in sending Dean back to this. She reached out, grabbing his forearm gently. "Let me take the lead in this."

Thinking about this for a moment, the angel nodded. He knew that it was better for her to lead Dean through something like this, something so emotional that he would never forget. With both of his parents involved, it was no matter the duty of an angel to protect him - it was the mandate of a savior.

Waiting for Dean to round the corner, Castiel stood behind her, ready to make them disappear. As soon as Dean turned, he practically face-planted right into Trelaine.

"Shit," he muttered, collecting himself at the sight of her. "What is this?"

Trelaine shrugged. "What does it look like?" she countered.

One of his eyebrows lifted. "Is it real?"

Trelaine nodded. "Very."

Dean was apparently okay with that. "Okay, so what? Angels got their hands on some Deloreans? How did I get here?"

"Time is fluid, Dean," Cas jumped in. "It's not easy, but we can bend it on occasion."

"Well, bend it back or tell me what the hell I'm doing here!"

"I told you - you have to stop it."

"Stop what? Huh? What, is there something nasty after my Dad?" A car horn sounded behind him, but when he turned back around, both Cas and Trelaine were gone. "Oh, come on!"

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"Cas, what the hell?" Trelaine exclaimed as they landed in the park. "You said you'd let me take the lead on this! Why did you have to intervene like that?"

"I'm sorry," Cas stated sincerely. "He seemed hostile."

"Hostile is practically his middle name." She ran her fingers back through her waves. "You can't keep doing this to me, Cas. I _need_ to help him - dammit, you _know_ why."

"I just don't think you need to be left alone to handle him all the time. Sometimes I would like to be a part of this, you know."

Trelaine frowned some, recalling the time Cas explained how he had been left out of many missions that the garrison had been assigned to - she really pitied him, which was part of the inspiration for asking for his assistance in retrieving Dean from Hell. She nodded. "I know you would, Cas, I know. I just think that until you observe them some more and get to know them better, it's probably best to leave this to someone who _does_ know them and _does_ know how to handle them, okay? Does that seem fair to you?"

Castiel nodded, his entire demeanor softening. Trelaine moved in, giving him a firm embrace. His hands hesitated to respond, but soon his arms were wrapped tightly around her, hugging her back and burying his face into her shoulder.

Trelaine knew that Castiel had possessed some kind of soft spot for her since the inception of their comraderie, but she hadn't been made aware of the depth of his feelings, if there were, indeed, feelings to be had. She really wasn't sure, and Cas was tight-lipped about the subject.

The rest of the day was spent following Dean around, watching him do this and that - convincing John to purchase the Impala, and everything leading up to Dean's discovery that Azazel had taken over Samuel's body.

"How long will this drag on, Trelaine?" Castiel asked as they waited in the shadows where John was proposing to Mary.

Trelaine's eyes turned to him, demanding an explanation. "How long will _what_ drag on?" she repeated.

"You're hiding the truth from Dean. Why can't you just tell him what's going on?"

She paused, taking a deep breath. "Every time I want to explain things, you zap me somewhere else. I can't keep lying to him, Cas. I can't be shady about all of this forever." She approached him, her eyes boring into his, noticing how blank he seemed to be behind those icy blues. "You knew from the start what was happening. You knew why it _had_ to be me to pull Dean from the depths." A pause came to her voice as her eyes averted his. "You know why I needed your help, why I _still_ need you around."

"Do you need me around anymore? Now that _he's_ here, you don't require protection from me."

"I want you around, Cas. I enjoy your company - you know that. Besides, you've said it yourself: the garrison doesn't want you. If I don't give you purpose, who will?"

"You give me purpose, Trelaine. I'm forever grateful for that." He reached over, about to take her hand when Dean showed up on the scene. His hand retracted as they approached him from behind, Cas placing two fingers onto his forehead and bringing him back to the present.

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Dean gasped deeply, bolting to an upright sitting position from his place on the bed. Trelaine was standing at the foot of the bed with Castiel offset and behind her a few paces.

Dean's eyes reflected the mindful distance he was experiencing, and Trelaine frowned at the sight. "I couldn't stop any of it," he stated, sounding beyond disappointed in himself. "She still made the deal. She still died in the nursery, didn't she?"

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Trelaine comforted gently.

"You couldn't have stopped it," Castiel said with a soft shrug.

Dean's face hardened as he stood from the bed, heading over to the angel. "What?" he asked, a rough tone coating his voice.

"Destiny can't be changed, Dean. All roads lead to the same destination."

"Then why'd you send me back?"

"For the truth," Trelaine explained, forcing Dean to make eye contact with her. "Now you know everything we do."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Trelaine nodded in the direction of Sam's bed, which was unmade, and Dean noticed, turning to give her a look of confusion. "Where's Sam?"

"We know what Azazel did to your brother. What we don't know is why - what his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up."

Dean licked his lips, repeating himself. "Where's Sam?"

"425 Waterman."

He turned on his heels to grab his jacket and the keys to the Impala.

"Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, Dean," Castiel warned, "and we're not sure where it leads. So stop it...or _we_ _will_."


	4. That's Unfortunate

**A/N: **I still own Trelaine. I hope you all are enjoying this! I know I'm enjoying writing this. :)

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Trelaine sat on the couch as the shadows of the room played across Castiel's features as he stood nearby. Another figure, a dark-skinned vessel holding the true form of Uriel, a kind of "specialist" angel, stood by the couch, watching her suspiciously. Such dire looks were making her uncomfortable, but her nervous tick of wringing her hands wasn't doing much good for her nerves as they waited for the Winchesters.

"I don't understand why you have you watch me like that - " she started when Uriel's dark voice interrupted her.

"Silence," Uriel said to her roughly. "I'll deal with you when this is all over."

"You will do no such thing," Castiel reminded him. "She is under _my_ jurisdiction." He glanced over to Trelaine who gave him a small smile of gratitude as the door to the room jiggled and opened. A tall shadow appeared in the doorway, and Trelaine knew it was Sam. She started to say something when Sam drew his gun, looking directly at the shadows.

"Who are you?!" he demanded.

Dean came in and placed his hand against Sam's gun. "Sam!" he exclaimed. "Sam, wait! It's Castiel and Trelaine." Sam appeared stunned, so Dean continued. "The angel and the messenger." Glancing at the third figure, he shrugged. "Him, I don't know."

Sam's expression changed from one of shock to one of amazement as he approached them. Trelaine stood, a soft smile crossing her lips upon sighting Sam's face.

"Hello, Sam," she greeted.

"Hello," Castiel said with a nod.

"Oh, my God," Sam said, blinking rapidly as he smiled brightly and outstretching his hand for Castiel to shake. "I, uh, I didn't mean to - sorry. It's an honor, really, I - I've heard a lot about the both of you."

Castiel glanced down at Sam's hand, rather unsure of what to do with it, so he looked to Trelaine. Trelaine shook Sam's hand gently to show Cas, who then nodded in realization and shook Sam's hand as well.

"And I, you," Castiel finally said. "Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood. Glad to see you've ceased your extracurricular activities."

Uriel, who was still facing the window, spoke. "Let's keep it that way," he commented.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, okay, chuckles." He looked to Trelaine. "Who's your friend?"

As she was about to answer, Castiel chimed in with, "The raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?"

"Why?"

"Dean, have you located the witch?"

Dean's brow rose. Castiel's voice was far too strong - why was he being so forceful? Perhaps he was being gruff for the same reason that Trelaine was being so quiet and mousy. Something about this other angel's presence set them both on edge. "Yes, we've located the witch."

"And is the witch _dead_?"

"No," Sam said, "but - "

"We know who it is," Dean interrupted, really unsure of where they were going with that. Trelaine moved from where she'd been and went to the bedside table.

"Apparently, the witch knows who you are, too," she said, and Dean shivered at the wavering undertone in her voice. She was spooked by something, and he wanted to pick her brain and find out what. She picked up a hex bag and showed them. "I found this inside the wall of your room. If I hadn't found it, one or both of you would be dead."

"Do you know where the witch is now?" Castiel asked, almost sounding impatient.

Dean shook his head. "We're working on it," he confessed.

Castiel sighed. "That's unfortunate."

The elder Winchester's brow furrowed. "What do _you_ care?"

Castiel glanced over in Trelaine's direction before sighing. Dean caught that look, wondering what the hell was the deal between the pair of them, but he shoved that question to the back of his head. Castiel turned back to look at Dean. "The raising of Samhain is one of the sixty-six seals."

Trelaine tuned out the rest of the conversation. That's all she ever seemed to hear these days - apocalypse this, seals that. All she wanted was to confess to Dean of what had really happened on the day he had been extracted from hell, and, moreover, why she was there and doing all of this for him. She made eye contact with Sam, but soon looked away, not ready to reveal anything about herself to him.

When Uriel interrupted their conversation, Trelaine stood from the edge of the bed, still wringing her hands. "You both need to leave this town right now," she warned in a blurted kind of confession.

Dean was startled, looking over at her. "Why?" he asked.

"Because they - " There she nodded her head in both Castiel's and Uriel's directions. " - are about to destroy it."

Dean's expression changed to anger. "So this is your plan? You're gonna smite the whole fuckin' town?"

"We're out of time," Castiel said with a shrug. "The witch has to die, the seal must be saved."

"There are a thousand people here," Sam said with a shake of his head.

"One thousand two hundred fourteen," Uriel corrected.

"And you're willing to kill them all?"

"This isn't the first time I've...purified a city."

"Look, I understand this is regrettable," Castiel said.

"Regrettable?" Dean's rather annoyed tone stated.

"We have to hold the line. Too many seals have broken already."

Trelaine's ears rang as though she was trying to be spoken to. Generally, that wasn't what she wanted to happen, but it would happen nonetheless. Still, for whatever reason, the blurred voices of the men in the room became nigh inaudible to her usually sensitive ears. it wasn't until their voices started rising in volume that Dean's voice sliced through the confusion.

"No, but if you're gonna smite this whole town," she heard him say as she came back to reality, the ringing in her ears ceasing, "then you're gonna have to smite us with it, because we are not leaving." He glanced over at her, and his very eye contact was enough to send her already sensitive flesh into a frenzy. "See, _you_ went to the trouble of busting me out of hell, Trelaine. I figure I'm worth something to the man upstairs. So you wanna waste me, go ahead. See how he digs that."

"I will drag you out of here myself," Uriel said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, but you'll have to kill me, then we're back to the same problem. I mean, come one, you're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch? Sounds to me like you're compensating for something." Dean's eyes turned back to Trelaine's. "We can do this. We will find that witch and we will stop the summoning."

"Castiel! I will not let these people - "

"ENOUGH!" Trelaine shouted into the beligerent noise of Uriel's taunting voice. All eyes in the room turned to face her. Castiel moved to stand near her, turning his eyes to Dean. "I suggest you move quickly."

**::::**

With Uriel gone, Castiel could zap Trelaine and himself to another place. His hands rested on her shoulders, eyes searching her face.

"What's happening, Trelaine?" he asked, and she could sense the worry cracking his voice. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head, bracing herself on his arms. "All of this evil is taking a toll on me." She winced, and his facial expression changed to one of dire concern. "Cas, I need to talk to Dean. I need to tell him what's going on." She knew with some kind of self-assured certainty that if she told the truth, the pressure on her shoulders would be alleviated some. "You know my kind - you know about what goes on inside our heads. Please, Cas, I need to see him."

Cradling her into his arms without another word, Castiel teleported to wherever Dean was, almost unsurprised to see him sitting on a bench in the park as children laughed and played. "Dean, you need to talk to her. Now. She's ready to tell you why she pulled you from the depths."


	5. Try Living It

**A/N:** Again, all I own is Trelaine. Enjoy. :)

**::::**  
**::::**

"Lay her down on my bed," Dean instructed as the three of them entered the hotel room. He closed the door behind them as he watched Castiel gingerly lay Trelaine down, obviously taking great care in making sure that she was taken care of. "Wanna tell me what the hell is wrong with her, Cas?"

Castiel shook his head, placing his hand flat against her forehead. "She'll be awake soon," he said softly, removing his hand. "She passed out, I'm afraid."

"Wanna tell me why?"

Castiel turned his eyes to Dean. "She wants to tell you the truth as to why you were pulled from Hell."

Dean nodded, looking over Trelaine's body. "Is she injured? Is she hurt - was she attacked?"

Castiel shook his head, casting a sad glance in her direction. "Sadly, no. This is an unfortunate side effect of her species."

"Of her 'species' means she's not human. What does that make her, Cas? What _is_ she?"

"That is a question best posed to her."

"So what...we just wait until she just happens to wake up?"

Castiel shrugged. "There's nothing I can do to wake her up. It must happen on her own. Many of her kind can fall into stupors, some never awaken."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. If Trelaine didn't come out of this, he would never be made aware of what the intent on his extraction truly was. Instead, he'd be forced to make it up or just deal with the fact that he'd never know, and neither seemed too plausible.

He moved over to the edge of Sam's bed, sitting down on it as he looked over at the sleeping woman, noting to himself that she actually looked rather lovely, almost peaceful in her slumber. At least he could see the relaxation in her facial features and not the twisted pain plastered all across her. Leaning down, he rested his elbows onto his knees, trying to remain calm as he awaited the news.

**::::**

"What's taking her so long to wake up?" Castiel asked impatiently after an hour. "She's told me of the horrors of her kind, but I never thought it'd take her this long, I mean, not for _her_."

Dean picked up on that nuance, looking up from his phone and breaking the thought of the text message he was in the middle of typing. "Her? What sets her apart from others of her kind?"

"Again, Dean, I'll say that these are questions you should save and ask of her yourself."

That response was starting to piss him off, but he realized Castiel was right and perhaps Cas himself didn't have all the answers. Dean's eyes cast down at the phone, finishing his text to Sam.

Castiel noticed the phone in his fingers. "What are you doing? Who are you contacting?"

"Back-up," Dean answered with a sigh of relief as he shut the phone and turned his sights back to Trelaine.

"Back-up?" Castiel was clearly confused, but in a matter of ten minutes, Sam entered the room, eyes immediately seeing the woman on Dean's bed.

"What's going on?" he asked more of Dean than of anyone else. "Is she okay?"

Dean nodded, his eyes not leaving her. "She _will_ be. Right now, she's just unconscious."

"But she may not wake up," Castiel chimed in.

"Cas, don't."

Castiel ignored him, turning his sights to Sam. "Her kind have issues with what she's ailed with, and some never wake up from their comatose states."

"Comatose? So she's in a deep sleep?" Sam asked, wanting pure clarification.

"Perhaps."

Dean watched as Trelaine's arm twitched slightly as she began to stir. "Sam," he said, his tone knowing and deep. Sam nodded, taking Castiel by the arm and leading him from the room.

"Come with me, Cas. Let's leave Dean to deal with Trelaine."

"I do not trust him with her, Sam," Castiel admitted and Sam glanced at his brother, giving him a pert nod of his head.

"Let us know when you're done."

"Sam, no. I cannot leave when she's like - "

_Slam_.

Dean heard the locks click on the door as Trelaine's eyelids shuddered.

She opened her eyes, blinking a few times. "What happened?"

Dean gave her a half-smile as he stood from the bed, heading over to the counter. "Nice to see you're awake again, Skippy," he commented, grabbing two beers and handing her one of them. "You were really out of it."

"Don't avoid the question, Dean," Trelaine said, placing the beer onto the nightstand without another look. Her gaze immediately went to his and locked there. Dean caught her expression, a certain kind of gleam behind her eyes. "What happened to me?"

Dean sighed as he popped the cap off the bottle. "You were comatose."

Trelaine appeared to be shocked upon hearing his answer, a fact that he duly noted. "I woke up, though, so that's a good sign."

Dean nodded, noticing that she didn't touch the beer - she didn't even look phased by its presence, a sign that there was something going on. "So, are you just gonna come out and tell me how I was pulled from Hell, or do I need to make things a little difficult?"

Trelaine could sense a kind of hidden hesitation in his voice. She knew he couldn't harm her - she knew he _wouldn't_ harm her. Still, she couldn't refuse him the honesty she wanted to give him so she shook her head. "I'll tell you everything you want to know, but I warn you..." She paused, a heavy expression on her face. "...you won't like all of it."

"Bring it on," Dean challenged with a swig of his beer.

**::::**

Trelaine sighed, bracing her hands on her knees. "What do you want to know?"

Dean shrugged. "For starters, I want to know what the hell you are."

Trelaine nodded, figuring earlier on that this question would come first. "How far back can you remember?" Dean said nothing, so she reiterated her question, figuring that she had been too vague. "Can you remember anything from when you were fifteen years old?"

Dean thought for a moment, his mind twisting to try and locate the time when he was fifteen. "I remember a girl I had the hots for. I remember Sam. I remember moving to a different school."

"More specifically, do you recall a dream you had when you were fifteen?" Dean was confused, so she tried to be more specific. "It was a dream that probably left you feeling happy, and I don't just mean happy in the sense that you woke up with warm pie on the table. I mean the kind of happy that leaves you wanting more, leaves you feeling satisfied."

In earnest, Dean recalled this dream. He remembered the place that it depicted. He remembered waking up and feeling happy, feeling healthier, and feeling _loved_. Really, truly, loved. He nodded. "I remember the dream."

Trelaine breathed a light sigh of relief before continuing. "Do you remember anything specific about that dream, perhaps someone who was watching you?"

"Someone was watching me?"

Trelaine nodded. "_I_ was." This opened a floodgate of questions on Dean's end, but she held up a hand as if to tell him she was about to explain. "I was fifteen at the time as well. I was young, not very experienced in my gifts yet. I was still a pupil. So, when I found myself in a meadow inside my world, I wondered why. That's when I saw you. Your fifteen-year-old self was looking into my world somehow, and you were _happy_ about it. I saw you not as a teenager, but as you would be, as you are right now sitting in this room, looking at me like I have twelve heads." She paused. "You were beautiful and I became attached to the idea of you. After you went away, my mentor told me who you were and of all the different dangers you would face in your lifetime."

"So, what, you _stalked_ me?"

Trelaine shook her head. "Of course not! From then on out, I kept an eye on you and when things went wrong, I helped out."

"What do you mean you helped out?"

"You _really_ don't think you should still be alive with all of your numerous wounds, do you, Dean? Patching yourself and Sam up can only help for so long before more assistance is required."

"And you are the 'more assistance' we supposedly require, right?" When she nodded, Dean scoffed and shook his head. "So what does this make you, then?"

"Think about it, Dean. Think about where that dream sent you. It has a name, my realm. You already know the answer." He thought for a few moments, but she grew impatient. "You looked into Avalon."

"Avalon?" he repeated, trying to wrap his head around the fact that a place he once thought to be fictional was actually real. "So what does that make you?"

"I'm a fairy."

Dean's expression changed from contemplation to shock. "You're a _what_?"

She sighed. "A fairy."

"Wait a tick. So then why aren't you small like a floating light-bulb and why don't you look like something straight out of Shakespeare?"

She sensed his confusion, though it was quite explicit. "There is not a specific name for my kind. Just know that my natural appearance is this form - human." She paused, a slight grin stretching her lips. "As for that last part, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ is actually extremely correct by all of Avalon's standards. I think Oberon appeared to Shakespeare a few times during the writing process."

"Whoa. Oberon?"

"He's the king of the sidhe. He's like the, uh, the Papa Smurf of the Fae."

Dean rose from the bed, rubbing his temples roughly. "Dammit, this is too much."

"I'm sorry, Dean," she admitted, a light frown crossing her lips. "I haven't even gotten to the meat of the story yet."

"There's more?" Dean said, his voice panging with frustration and exhaustion. "Christ."

"Watch your tongue," she said sharply, and Dean was taken aback. "Don't slander the name of the man who gave me authority to pull you out of Hell."

"So you weren't lying when you said you pulled me out of Hell on God's orders."

"I haven't lied to you yet."

Dean sat back down on the hotel bed, shifting himself to get a bit more comfortable. "Please continue."

"You sure?" He nodded, so she exhaled and continued. "Oberon wasn't happy with me for interfering in your life, and in Sam's as well. It was I who told your father of the proper time to help the two of you out, and I regret that decision to this day."

Dean shook his head sympathetically. In truth, it wasn't her fault that John was dead just as it wasn't her fault that Dean's sorry ass had been thrust into the pit. "It's not your fault, Trelaine."

Trelaine gave him an apologetic and grateful smile. "Anyway, he threatened to kick me out without ever achieving full status with the Fae, which was extremely dishonorable. I couldn't leave the two of you to your own devices, bleeding and often too hot-headed to think clearly. You two weren't alone with me watching out for you, but Oberon closed the veil between our worlds and told me to choose."

Dean nodded, knowing how that bit ended. "You chose us."

Trelaine shrugged. "My heart lay with the fifteen-year-old boy I had envisioned as a grown man. I couldn't abandon him or his brother, no matter how strong I know the two of you are. Oberon cast me out and told me I could keep my half-assed powers as a reminder of how strong I could have been." Dean frowned as she spoke, sensing that she was saddened slightly by this. "I still helped you both, though. I'm a healer, so that's come in handy where you boys are concerned."

Dean nodded, wincing slightly at the flash of memories, all of pain. "I'm sure it has. I can't thank you enough - "

"Don't thank me yet." _Fair enough_, Dean thought as he gestured for her to go on. "Apparently, God got wind of my faithfulness to the pair of you and to your quest, so I was visited by an angel."

"Cas."

Trelaine nodded. "That was the first time I met him. He told me God had plans for me, and wanted to speak to me. I wondered how in the hell that could be possible. The fuck would God want with a fairy?" Dean moved his head in agreement - no way would he argue with that. "So, Cas took me to Heaven. God was there in some form or other. He spoke to me and told me that because of my loyalty, he wanted me to be an official guide, a protector for the pair of you. I accepted without hesitation. He told me if I promised to help be a messenger for him, he'd do as I wished and help me keep the two of you safe - safe and alive."

Dean pondered this, recalling all the times he and Sam should've died and didn't. That was Trelaine's doing? She was the one calling the shots on their fates? Things would have been far different from the brothers' point of view if they'd known that a fairy had been on their side for years. They could've really used her physical assistance with things.

Dean licked his lips in thought. "So you really are a messenger?" She nodded. "Sorry. I'm just trying to wrap my head around this."

"I told you it wouldn't be easy."

"So you're a fairy who was called on by God to be a messenger to help me and Sam?" Dean repeated, chuckling to himself. "Sounds kind of silly."

"I know. Try living it." He stopped chuckling. There was no way he could argue with that sort of logic. "Feels silly almost every goddamn day."

Dean paused, his next question not shocking in the slightest from her point of view. "Why do it?" She listened, knowing that there was more to this question. "I mean, why attach yourself to me and save my brother and me time and time again, and then pull my ass out of Hell?"

Trelaine's gaze narrowed slightly. "Isn't it obvious?"

Dean shook his head. "Not to me."

She sighed gingerly, shrugging her shoulders lightly. "Well, it's in the subtext."

"Just fucking tell me why."

"Because she's in love with you," Castiel's voice said abruptly as he appeared in the doorway. Sam was directly behind him and all eyes moved to Trelaine. Her face was heavy-laden with a blush so red it was impenetrable as she rose from the bed and rushed into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it, slumming down onto the floor with her back against the wood.

"Nicely done, Cas," Dean accused. "She wasn't done talking to me!"

"I know that, but I had to intervene on her behalf."

"Why intervene? We were just dandy until you upset her."

"Why the hell would that upset her anyway?" Sam chimed in, entering the room fully and bolting the door behind him.

"Because she was trying to tell me herself," Dean explained, casting a cold glance in the angel's direction.

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "I am trying to protect her," he said, and Dean scoffed.

"Really, Cas?"

"Her kind are emotionally fragile. They can only physically control one emotion at a time."

"So your first instinct is to say something to piss her off?"

"She's not angry, Dean. She's conflicted and still in pain."

"In pain?" Sam repeated, moving to sit on his bed. "Why is she in pain? Is she hurt?"

Castiel nodded. "The fires of Hell have not fully relented."

Dean's brow rose. "Are you telling me she's still in pain from whatever the fuck she pulled me from?"

"Yes."

"Can't you heal her?"

Castiel shook his head. "Her injuries are far more complicated than that."

Dean's heart sunk. This sweet woman - well, fairy - had been terribly injured on Dean's behalf and he pitied her, feeling overwhelmingly apologetic. She had feelings for him according to Cas, but Dean wanted her to come clean about them on her own.

"Trelaine?" Dean said as he approached the bathroom door. "You can come on out."

"No thanks. I'd rather save myself from personal embarrassment."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about." He sat down by the door, leaning his head against the door's framework. "You have no idea how grateful I am - well, _we_ are for your help over the years. Knowing what I know now, I don't think we could've done it without you. Honestly, I, uh...I _know_ that I couldn't have."

Trelaine closed her eyes and smiled, the sound of that compliment warming her aura. "Dean, you also now know how I feel. It'll complicate things."

"Do I?" He paused. "You haven't told me yourself about how you feel. How _do_ you feel, Trelaine?"

She paused for a moment, closing her eyes and tipping her head back against the door as she attempted to think of what to say. "Cas was right. I feel strongly about you."

"Strongly how? Love?"

She nodded before remembering that he couldn't see her. "Yes. Love. I know it's creepy and I know it's weird. All I ask is that you let me do what I'm meant to. Let me love you from a distance."

Dean wasn't about to turn her out onto the streets for loving him - her dedication and devotion had saved his ass and Sam's more times than he could count. She was the reason they weren't dead - not of demon or Hell-hound or ghost appearances, but because of wound infection. He owed her a _huge_ thank-you card...maybe a fruit basket. _Do fairies like fruit?_ "And then what?"

Trelaine sighed, reaching up and unlocking the door, pulling it open so she could look at him through the crack in the door. "Then we keep on running."

Dean nodded. "Do you wanna come out now?"

Trelaine nodded, exiting the bathroom and straightening herself. She flashed a soft smile to Sam before looking directly at Castiel.

"I should slap you," she said to him.

Castiel's gaze narrowed. "Choose a cheek."

"Son of a bitch." Dean smirked to himself at the sound of his favorite phrase rolling off of her tongue.

"Perhaps, but we have work to do. I'm afraid we must go."

"Whoa, hey, Trelaine," Dean said, almost catching her arm before retracting his hand, leaving Sam with a few questions to ask of his brother once they were alone. "You leavin'?"

Trelaine nodded. "We have to. God's work can't fulfill itself."

"What if...what if we need you?"

"Call me. Say my name out loud. I'll be there, but be warned. Cas will be with me."

"Duly noted," Dean remarked, glaring in Cas' direction before Cas and Trelaine were both gone.

"We need to talk, Dean," Sam said with a sigh.


End file.
